Slinging scribbles

Let me immortalise the love that I see, Though not in you, its just my eyes and heart, there all I see, Its like a blunder, a dangerous risk, beautiful, maybe to see, Actions, thoughts clutter for a smile to see. Care that is only known by the person who maketh, Sacrifices waiting to be treasured for approvals, Expectations rise at the obsession's flight, Fight for a sight yet there is a veil on her eyes. The desperation to claim what's your is not desperate to be claimed, Its the depth that cannot be fathomed, love that cannot be conquered, For it remains senile, unknown, foolish to the heart that never burnt. Relentlessly, the incense stick burnt, carelessly enlightening, without any joy, hurt! One has no answer to the trials of love, Its the destination that makes history, Sadly, not the journey that the souls make, They just remain hidden, kneaded to the lover's skin, smell and soul. As poets, we must inflict the love and be burnt like the camphors,...

Experiences are what makes a man, Is it true for me? Gratification abstains the trees, Who bear the fruits for free. Would I be only used as a seed? Weeds endure the worst storms, Only weak enough to be rolled over by the tiny rabbits Is it the same for me? Lived my life In search of good and god, He is there, they feel, but for me? The path of equilibrium and serenity, Is it open for me? Yes, says an acquaintance, if you live life with zest, it all is!